


The Great Morty

by Transformersfan123



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Gen, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-12 20:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13554885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transformersfan123/pseuds/Transformersfan123
Summary: Morty C-137 is hanging on to his sanity by a thread. Revenge toward Evil Morty for what he'd made him suffer fills his mind, but he is also concerned about saving as many Ricks from the psychopath as possible. Rick C-137 is drowning in drink, afraid to face the thought that his Morty is dead. Everything culminates in one sentence: "Hi, I'm Mr. Jellybean!" Mention of rape.





	1. The C-137s

**Author's Note:**

> There is just something about this dark series that draws me in. Might be my depression or pessimism, but this just fascinates me. I'm completely caught up with the series, and this is just something that came to my mind. I don't know how many chapters it'll be yet. Please enjoy.

Over one hundred Ricks strode forward purposefully, too drunk to be nervous as they followed the unknown Morty. The boy said nothing to them, tapping on a screen as he walked through the winding passages. He glanced up whenever they reached branching hallways, turning this way and that as he led the Ricks deep under the mountain, past rooms full of other Mortys working on assigned tasks.

The Ricks, as rude as ever, were restless, muttering amongst themselves. They had only just escaped death, getting away with mere moments to spare. The Morty that had been elected President of the Citadel of Ricks had gloatingly left them in a room to be sliced to pieces, gassed, and incinerated. When a portal had been opened, they took the chance and leapt through only to find themselves inside a large cavern set into a mountain. The Morty they were following had been waiting, closing the portal behind them and leading them beneath the mountain.

"Where are w-we going, Morty?" Rick Z-42 demanded after a particularly long belch. They had just taken the center fork of a tunnel, and the Ricks were beginning to doubt that they were actually safe, especially with all the Mortys that paused and stared at them as they passed.

"T-t-to the m-main hall," the Morty stammered, his voice soft but his tone firm. "You must meet th-th-the Great Morty."

"W-what makes him so great?" Rick 69T-Beta growled, and the other Ricks snarled their agreement.

"Y-you'll see," the Morty said and refused to explain any further.

The Ricks grew more uneasy. Their minds were still sharp in their drunken states, and they worried that not only this 'Great Morty' had become cocky, but that the Morty they were following was on his way. Mortys never spoke to Ricks like that, and fear bubbled up in their hearts. The Ricks covered up their feelings the way they always did: by swigging out of their flasks and burping.

After another five minutes and several more turns, the unknown Morty led them into an enormous cavern. The markings on the wall suggested that the room had been hollowed out with special tools. The Ricks glared at the forty or so Mortys that were bustling about, no doubt doing the tasks that the so-called 'Great Morty' had bidden them to. The Morty led them into the space then went up a small set of stairs that put him in a more authoritative position. The Ricks kicked back more of their liquor, trying to hide their discomfort.

The Morty stopped at the top of the platform, finally putting the device he had been typing on aside. Another Morty took it and walked over to an enormous computer to plug it in. The Morty, wearing a blood-red cloak, glanced around.

"I-if you would be so k-kind as to w-w-wait here," he said unflinchingly, "I w-will go and t-tell the G-Great M-M-Morty of your arrival."

The Ricks drank deeply as the unknown Morty walked into a passageway beside the computer. It led down deeper under the mountain to the rooms of the Mortys. Most of the rooms were communal with bathrooms connected. However, the Great Morty had his own set of rooms. The other Mortys, though they looked up to him, couldn't live around him. Only the red-cloaked Morty was close with him, and that had been hard enough.

The Morty paused outside of the door to his leader's rooms. He took a deep breath and gave three knocks, waited for a few moments, then opened the door. Walking in, he found the Great Morty seated in a cushioned armchair, staring deep into a purple fire with his thoughts. The other Morty was reluctant to interrupt, but the Great Morty had commanded it.

"S-s-sir?" he asked as he closed the door behind him.

"Yes, U3945?" he asked in a low tone, his eyes glazed over. He didn't need to look because U3945 was the only one who ever dared to enter his rooms.

"It's happened. W-we brought the R-Ricks here. They are…impatient."

"When isn't Rick im-impatient?" was the murmured reply.

Silence ensued for a few moments, neither Morty moving. After about a minute, the Great Morty shook off his melancholy thoughts with a sigh. He swung on a dark cloak, tying it neatly before picked up a flask, identical to the Ricks' flasks. Morty U3945 looked away uncomfortably as his leader unscrewed the cap and took a long draught. The Great Morty swallowed the burning liquid with too much ease for a fifteen-year-old then capped his drink and placed the flask back onto the table beside his chair.

"Let's get out there then," he said, his voice never rising above a soft, distant voice. All the Mortys had come to realize the tone came from a fractured mind, but none knew why it was so fractured except for U3945. As the Great Morty headed for the door, the red-cloaked boy gave a hesitant smile.

"Maybe your Rick is out there?" he suggested.

"I suppose," came the quiet response, and U3945 dropped the topic.

The Great Morty flipped up his hood as they walked back to the main cavern. As soon as they exited the hallway, all the Ricks looked up at them, narrowing their eyes as they took in the hooded boy. The lesser Morty drew back, staring at his leader and feeling sorry for him. There were so many Ricks, and it would be hard for anybody to talk to them, but for a  _Morty_ to do it, even one as strong as the Great Morty?

But even U3945 was surprised that his leader said not a word as the shouting began. Their questions, no matter how rude, went unanswered. The Great Morty kept his face hidden and his head bowed. One by one, the Ricks realized that something was wrong with this Morty. He wasn't acting as cocky as they had assumed he would. Was he really cocky? Most of them tried to shrug off the fact that they were unsure by taking a long drink from their flasks. They didn't know what to say, and most of them wandered around, grumbling about the scientific equipment that covered the walls. One Rick finally meandered up the stairs and stared at the Great Morty.

"Which one are—eugh—you?" he asked. No answer. "Do you have a Rick?"

The Rick rubbed the back of his neck at the disturbing lack of response.

"I'm C-137."

"Where's your Morty?" Morty U3945 asked when his leader stayed silent.

"You know, around," Rick said evasively. "P-probably spending time with his lame f-family."

The Great Morty simply turned and walked away, leaving his follower and Rick to themselves. Rick frowned and watched him leave.

"What's his problem?" Rick demanded, turning to U3945.

Morty U3945 measured his response carefully. "He-He's been through something. He doesn't talk much to anybody but me, and even then, it's not a-a lot."

"What's going on here?" Rick C-137 asked, gesturing around vaguely.

That was a question that had an easy answer. "Evil Morty is trying to k-k-kill all the R-Ricks. Our leader built a portal to the Gr-Grand Citadel to get as many Ricks to-safety as possible. T-today we started with you and the others t-that came w-w-with you. The G-Great Morty found Mortys who agreed with him that Ricks are w-worth saving. H-he's f-fighting E-E-Evil Morty for the r-rights of Ricks everywhere."

"Hm. Guess we're idiots when it comes to Mortys, aren't we?" Rick asked grimly with a burp, grabbing his flask and drinking deeply. "Seems like most Mortys are abused and stupid."

"The Great Morty knows that you R-Ricks care for us. Some-Somewhere inside, deep in-inside you do."

Rick didn't argue. Instead, he stared out across the numerous Ricks and Mortys. "Yeah," he finally said, so soft that U3945 almost didn't hear it.

After a pause, the red-cloaked Morty asked. "S-So where's your Morty?"

"Dead," Rick answered gruffly.

Walking down the stairs, he took another large swig to hide his pain. U3945 watched him go, aching to tell him that his Morty was alive. But his loyalty to his leader prevented him from speaking up. His eyes remained locked on that Rick, who didn't look around or talk to anybody else. U3945 realized that Rick C-137 was just as broken as his Morty. Shaking his head, the red-cloaked Morty moved to talk to as many Ricks as possible, trying to push away the emotions that threatened to make him cry. But he didn't cry. He couldn't. Ricks looked down on it, and he had to be strong in front of them. He just wished he didn't have to.


	2. Wubba Lubba Dub-Dub

_Morty's feet pounded on the ground as he ran. The sounds of his pursuer didn't falter, and C-137 pushed himself to go faster. The cold air he sucked in chilled his lungs as his muscles burned from exertion. The taunting laughter from his past from a horribly sweet man that he had barely escaped filled his mind. His pursuer laughed too as he taunted that C-137 would meet that same man when he was captured._

_Suddenly, the ground in front of him tore open. Morty C-137 tried desperately to stop, but his pursuer finally caught up with him and tackled him. They both fell in, down, down, down toward a blue light that swirled and sparkled._

_"Rick!" Morty screamed as he fell into the yawning abyss. "Rick! Help! Help me, Rick! Help me!"_

_A soft voice in his ear whispered something that made his blood run cold. "He'll never help you again." Then they were swallowed in the tingling blue light, and a sickly-sweet laugh sounded out…_

"Rick!" Morty gasped, bolting upright. His frightened gaze swept the room, and he slowly came back to the present. He was lying in a soft bed covered by smooth blankets. The fire was burning low, casting deep shadows across the room. Shadows that could hide a certain jellybean.

Shivering, Morty C-137 wiped the sweat from his brow then leaned over to grab the flask that he set on the bedside table every night. By all the stars in the sky, he was grateful that he had picked it up before he and Rick got separated. It had fallen with him on that dark day, and Evil Morty hadn't been able to keep him from stealing it back when he'd escaped from his clutches.

Morty drank down the whole flask then capped it to let it automatically refill. After taking a few deep breaths, he stood on trembling legs and stumbled to the bathroom to relieve himself. He stepped over to the sink to wash his hands. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he couldn't hold his own gaze. His glazed eyes moved over the myriad of scars that decorated his pale, thin body.

A row of scars on his left shoulder made him flinch away from his reflection. They were marks from a certain jellybean's teeth. Drying his hands, he thought once again about Rick. He just knew he couldn't face him again. Rick would figure out what had happened. He was smart and observant, even when drunk. But Morty didn't want to rope his grandfather into his problems. He didn't want to tell Rick about the horrible nights in the dark with the cloying smell of sweetness that was almost rotting.

The door to his room opened after a gentle knock. Morty U3945 slipped in, closing the door behind him. This was the only Morty, the only person he had trusted with his scars, his story. C-137 only glanced at him. U3945 shuffled his feet then spoke up.

"S-s-sir?"

"Yes, U3945? Morty C-137 asked.

"Y-your Rick isn't asleep if-if you w-w-want to talk with him."

"No. He doesn't need me."

"A-all Ricks need Mortys, e-even if they don't admit it. You s-said so y-yourself."

"Then I don't need him."

"All M-Mortys need Ricks, e-even if they d-don't admit it. You said th-that, too."

C-137 pursed his lips and walked over to his armchair. "I don't w-want to talk to him."

"B-but I think you n-need to. Your R-R-Rick cares for you v-very deeply. He m-misses you. He's d-d-depressed."

The Great Morty slammed his hand on the table, but when he spoke, his voice was still far away. "Is there anything else you needed, U3945?"

"N-no, sir," the Morty replied, glancing away.

"Then leave."

There was no room for argument in that tone, and his follower left. Morty C-137 retrieved his flask and took another long swig of whatever alcohol it contained. He then tried to sleep, but it was impossible. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw were those piercing blue eyes, and when he finally slipped into unconsciousness, he heard that horrifically sweet voice.

_"Hi! I'm Mr. Jellybean!"_

C-137 whimpered and writhed all the more as  _it_  happened all over again. When he awoke, sweaty and gasping, his body ached from tension. Sitting up, he grabbed the flask and headed back over to the fire. With a few deft movements, the fire was restoked and he lowered himself into his armchair. His thoughts turned to his Rick. Oh, how he would love to fall into his grandfather's arms and sob over the unfairness of the world.

The dream was bittersweet, though; as much as Morty knew Rick loved him, the man wasn't a hugger. Besides that, they had never discussed the incident at the tavern, even though the boy was pretty sure his grandfather had figured it out. He took another long drink, trying to push away the pain. Words came unbidden to his lips.

"Wubba lubba dub-dub," Morty whispered, tears swimming in his eyes. He shrank in on himself then raised his voice for the first time in a long, long while. "Wubba lubba dub-dub! Wubba lubba dub-dub! Oh! Rick! Please! Wubba lubba dub-dub!"

He continued to scream it, feeling as if he was spiraling down into a pit and out of his mind. After screaming for five minutes, he lunged for the flask and drank himself into a stupor, trying to drown out the pain and memory of sickly-sweet breath and a sticky tongue laving across his neck, moving lower and lower and lower…

"Wubba lubba dub-dub," he groaned to himself in the same low tone he always used these days.

A knock on the door and Morty U3945 came in. C-137 was limp in his chair, his eyes dull from the alcohol. Without a word, the red-cloaked Morty carried his drunk leader to the bathroom. When the tub was filled with warm water, U3945 stripped the clothes off of C-137 and set him gently into the bath.

"Is Rick okay?" C-137 asked, his words slurring.

"He's f-fine," U3945 said, sitting down to make sure his leader didn't drown, either by accident or on purpose. "Are you?"

Morty C-137's eyes closed as he angled his head away, refusing to answer. But he didn't need to. It was obvious that he was in mental anguish. U3945 ignored his leader's tears as they steadily dripped into the bathwater. And when the Great Morty got out of the bathtub and dried off, they didn't say a single word. There was nothing they could say to ease the pain.

So, Morty C-137 got in bed to sleep and U3945 sat in the armchair to watch, feeling sorrier than he ever had before. He decided that he had to talk to Rick C-137. He just wished he knew what to say.


	3. Painful Feelings

Rick C-137 felt eyes on him again. If the gaze had belonged to another Rick, he knew the Rick would have said something. Ricks were never shy about speaking their minds. Since the person staring hadn't even approached him, it must have been a Morty,  _Which doesn't matter,_  he thought bitterly as he forced himself to ignore whoever it was. It wasn't  _his_  Morty anyway. It couldn't be, and that thought had him grasping for his flask.

"Don't think about it," he muttered to himself then drank deeply. He lowered the silver container when somebody touched his arm. Glancing over, he scowled at the Morty who dared to lay hands on him.

"C-137?" the Morty asked hesitantly.

"Which one are you?" Rick asked, though his tone was disinterested.

The Morty answered promptly. "U3945."

"What do you want?"

There was a few seconds of hesitation then the Morty asked in a soft voice, "How did your Morty die?"

The question made Rick C-137's blood run cold. He fought to not take another swig of liquor as he forced out his reluctant answer. "He fell into a black hole."

"Are you sure?"

That question caught Rick off guard, and he snorted, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. The Morty stared at him for a moment, but as he received no answer, he turned and walked away when somebody called for him. The grave look on the Morty's face gave the man pause. He took another drink as he considered the implications.

What had the Morty meant? Was his Morty actually…alive? He didn't want to hope. He drank more to shove down his feelings. A Rick wasn't supposed to feel for a Morty! And yet he did. He had loved his grandson, and deeper than he'd realized. To push back the tears, he drank some more then scanned the room.

U3945 was easy to spot. He wore a red cloak, much like the Great Morty's black one. Rick's mind raced as he stared at him. The cloak was a status symbol. That meant that U3945 had authority, possibly as high as second in command. But the glint in the Morty's eye, that knowledge that he'd seen in his own grandson gave him pause. Could that Morty know something?

After a few minutes, Rick C-137 sauntered over, hungry for information,  _any_  information, about his grandson. The Mortys were busy, talking in low voices to each other, and several stared at him, their expressions holding worry and confusion. A single glare from Rick C-137 and they lowered their eyes and scuttled away. The red-cloaked Morty hadn't noticed him yet. He pushed the boy's small shoulder lightly.

"Hey!"

U3945 jumped and spun around. "Yes?" His eyes roved over the tall frame of the Rick, and he blinked. "Oh! C-137! M-may I help you?"

"How do you know which one I am?" Rick C-137 asked, narrowing his eyes.

The Morty blushed and stammered his reply. "Y-you have a very dis-distinctive look about you. And I-I-I c-can r-recognize most R-R-Ricks and M-Mortys once I meet them. It's my-my gift."

Rick shrugged, trying to be subtle about his curiosity, quite unlike most Ricks. "Eh, w-whatever. Hey, not that I'm—eugh!—in-interested, but what did you m-mean ear-earlier?"

The Morty's face pinched and his cheeks glowed pink. He glanced around, scanning every face around him. He didn't relax as his gaze came back to Rick C-137. When he finally had enough courage to speak, his voice was low, as if what he was saying was the utmost secret.

"I-I-I was j-just s-saying that…that…that it might not have been a black hole."

Rick C-137 pursed his lips. The Morty was nervous, but his eyes were sincere, even as they scanned the room again. Hope fluttered in the Rick's chest, but he immediately stomped it out even as he asked, "What makes you say that?"

"E-Evil Morty has m-m-many inventions. Couldn't one, you-you know, be tr-tricky? He's…He's b-b-brilliant, you know. He got c-cocky."

"W-what about this 'Great Morty'?" Rick asked, taking another swig of liquor. "Isn't he cocky?"

Morty U3945 worried his bottom lip, thinking about how to phrase the answer. He lowered his head. "H-he is not c-cocky. H-he would be a-a-a lot different if he w-were. No, our l-leader is sure of himself. He kn-knows his in-intelligence, his problems, his-his…" He stopped then frowned. "He isn't one-one of the b-bad ones. I pr-promise."

"How do you know that? Why should I—eugh!—believe any-anything he s-says?"

"Th-think about it, C-137. Y-you're smart enough to-to figure it out."

Another Morty hurried out of the tunnel that lead to the personal rooms and rushed over to U3945. He stopped short when he saw the Rick, and he shuffled his feet and muttered that the Great Morty wished to speak to U3945. The Morty nodded at his counterpart then excused himself. As he walked away, Rick watched him go. The red-cloaked Morty glanced back for a brief moment before disappearing down the same tunnel that the other Morty had come out of.

Rick considered U3945's words, turning them over in his head, looking at every angle. What did he think? His mind went into overdrive, drawing every meaning he could from the tone, posture, hand gestures, and eyes of the not-his-Morty. Cautious and angry at his curiosity and feelings, he came to a frightening conclusion.

The Great Morty was manipulating the other Mortys to do his bidding. They would follow any order he gave. So U3945 must have been ordered to lie to him. Well, if that idiot boy believed he could trick a Rick, even a grieving C-137, he had another thing coming.

The man pushed his thoughts away, drinking his flask dry as he tried to force the hope out of his heart. He focused on the way the Great Morty was intending to trick him into thinking that his own Morty was alright.

' _The Mortys are trying to trick us all!'_ Rick concluded.

That was the conclusion he reached, the only one he would accept. The alternative made him want to cry: his Morty was alive and well. But that was a recipe for heartbreak because Rick C-137 had seen his grandson jump into the abyss. Closing his eyes, Rick C-137 reached for his flask, deciding that drinking himself into a stupor was better than all of these horrible  _feelings._


	4. The Capsule

Morty U3945 continued to keep an eye on Rick C-137. His plan to get the man to talk to the Great Morty has backfired. Instead of approaching the leader of the Mortys, the Rick was avoiding even looking at him. It seemed that both of them, not just Rick, were avoiding each other. Morty U3945 was frustrated. He just knew that the two C-137s just needed to have a long, honest conversation.

Despite the fact that his leader often said that Ricks and Mortys needed each other, but it was nearly impossible to get them to admit they needed each other. Trying to get this truth out of the Great Morty was harder than pulling the teeth of a Snorlmac.

The Ricks knew something had happened to Morty C-137, but they didn't know it was. U3945, on the other hand, knew exactly what had happened. He had seen the many scars that the Great Morty had received, and he had heard the screams from many more nightmares. He had spent dozens of nights taking care of his leader, bathing him, watching him in case he had another nightmare. The cushy armchair in Morty C-137's room was comfortable enough to fall asleep in, which he had done often.

One of the things that U3945 despised about his leader was his constant use of that infamous refillable flask. Nearly all Ricks drank deeply from that horrible container, and Rick C-137 had lost his original one. His Morty had picked it up, not intending to use it at the time, but after the torture he'd experienced in Evil Morty's clutches, he began to drink from it. He drank himself into a stupor a lot of nights, which said a lot. Ricks didn't like to see Mortys drinking, and other Mortys never had the desire to even taste it. For U3945 to witness a fellow Morty swigging from the flask disturbed him. But there was nothing he could do.

Morty C-137 refused to talk about it to everybody but his second in command. Everybody else, even the dumbest Mortys and most oblivious Ricks, noticed that something was wrong. The Great Morty was quiet, too quiet, and he never showed his face to any of the Ricks. In fact, very few Mortys had seen his visage either.

C-137 didn't speak to anybody, relaying his orders through U3945. He didn't argue with any of the Ricks, even though they constantly attempted to rile him. To most of the Ricks and Mortys, the Great Morty didn't seem to have emotions. But they had never seen the tears from flashbacks and nightmares.

Morty U3945 knew the story, knew what had broken the poor Morty. His leader was nearly destroyed mentally, and his quiet voice and distant attitude was his way of holding his fractured self together. It was devastating to see a Morty so devastated, and U3945 cursed Evil Morty and that horrible jellybean.

Several days of watching Rick C-137 from afar didn't accomplish anything. In the middle of one warm day, the red-cloaked Morty was summoned by his leader. He walked back through the twisted hallways to the Great Morty's rooms. Knocking three times, he pushed the door open to find, as he usually did, Morty C-137 sitting in his chair, staring deep into the purple flames. U3945 closed the door behind him and approached.

"S-s-sir?"

"How are the plans coming?"

"As well as c-can be ex-expected. The Ricks are i-im-impatient."

The pale, scarred boy nodded. They were silent for a few minutes as they turned over the plans in their minds. Their plan was to surprise Evil Morty with an army of Ricks and Mortys and fight to the death. Preferably Evil Morty's death, but they didn't know how the battle would turn out. At the moment, they were concentrating on saving as many Ricks as possible.

Morty C-137 shifted, and his voice rose ever-so-slightly.

"You talked to Rick."

U3945 tried to play it off. "I t-talk to a lot of Ricks."

Morty glanced at him with his detached eyes. "Don't j-jerk me around. Y-You talked to m-my Rick. R-R-Rick C-137. C-care to deny it?"

"N-no, s-s-sir. I s-spoke with him."

They grew quiet again, and U3945 wondered if he was going to be punished for daring to speak to his leader's Rick without permission. After about five minutes, the Great Morty reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small green and white capsule. Both of them stared at it for a few moments, and U3945 wondered what it was.

Finally holding out the pill, Morty C-137 said, "When you can, g-give th-this to m-my Rick."

U3945 took the pill and studied it. It was much like a suicide pill. "Wh-what does this do?"

His leader didn't respond to the question, instead turning his gaze back to the fire as he said, "Tell him to take it when e-everything is lost, when h-he feels as if h-h-he can't take it any l-longer."

Fear at what the pill might do rushed through the red-cloaked Morty. But he didn't dare disobey. Morty C-137 knew more than he did, and he didn't know for sure what the capsule was for. "Yes, s-sir."

"Y-you are dis-dismissed."

U3945 nodded and left. Morty C-137 kept his eyes on the fire as he reached for the flask. When the second in command reached the main hall, he ducked and dodged through various Ricks and Mortys. His eyes dashed around, searching for Rick C-137.

The Great Morty came out of the hall, flipping his hood up as he watched U3945 run around. Morty C-137 knew that his decision was risky, but he needed Rick. Though he wouldn't admit it to his second, he knew it was true. He knew there was a chance that his Rick would be too late in taking the pill. Or he might be too suspicious to take it at all. Still, Rick was smart, and there was a chance, however slim it was, that Rick would figure everything out.

"S-s-sir?" another Morty asked timidly, approaching the black-cloaked figure without looking at him.

"Yes, 5T9?" the Great Morty asked, his voice still far away.

"E-Evil Morty is t-trying to k-kill more Ricks."

"Prepare the p-portal," came the reply.

"Yes, s-sir."

The Great Morty turned away as he felt a burning gaze on him. He knew that U3945 had just given his Rick the pill. That was done, and it was all he could make himself do. The scars on his shoulder burned, and he shuddered. He didn't know what would happen, or even  _if_  it would happen. But for the moment, he didn't worry.


	5. Clash of Worldviews

A Morty's voice rose above the clamor of the two armies, cold and angry.

"Give up, C-137!"

There was a stir amongst the Ricks, and they glanced up from the army of Mortys that was pointing guns at them. C-137? Wasn't he gone? They had heard from his Rick that C-137 had died. They looked around for the source of the voice and their gazes landed on President Morty. His own dark eyes were locked on the hooded figure that stood in their midst. No! Could it be?

The Morty didn't say anything in reply, didn't move for several long moments as the silence deepened. Finally, he lowered his hood to reveal a dark, fiery gaze. The two Mortys glared at each other, a simmering hatred between them that filled the room and seemed to burn like acid. The armies were staring between the two boys, waiting for a word, for a command, for  _something_  to happen.

The hooded Morty jerked his hand, and his army of Mortys began to fire on the enemy. After a moment of confusion, the Ricks followed, instinct prompting them to be merciless. It was soon clear that neither army would win, and pandemonium ensued.

In a flurry of movement, the Great Morty stripped off his cloak, tossing it aside. He took a running leap and clambered up toward the balcony. Using muscles he'd built up during hours of alone time, he gave several practiced leaps. In seconds, he was face to face with the boy, no, the  _monster_  that had tortured both his mind and body, scarring both for life.

"You shouldn't have come back. You could have lived anywhere you wanted, been Rick free," Evil Morty said smoothly.

The Great Morty narrowed his eyes; he wouldn't fall for that persuasive tone. The same tone had been used as the knife had trailed over his skin, slicing deep and precisely to cause the most pain. He shook his head and answered coldly.

"I n-need my Rick, just as you did. You l-l-lost your mind be-because of it."

Evil Morty tried one more time, his voice sweet. "I'm free of the need for Ricks. You could have joined me. You could have had everything. You're cocky, just like me."

The Great Morty spoke in a low, dangerous tone. "I'm sure, not c-cocky." He slid into a defensive stance. "A-and I'm sure I'm going to d-destroy you."

"Once I kill you, I'll destroy all the Ricks," Evil Morty said. A smirk grew on his face as he added, "And I'll make sure the other Mortys meet Mr. Jellybean. I can go and get him if you want."

A scream burst from his lips, raw and broken, and Evil Morty laughed as all of the Ricks and other Mortys glanced up. The Great Morty lunged for the slim throat, and the two conflicting worldviews began to fight. For every strike, there was a block, for every smirk, there was a flash of lightning in dark eyes. Teeth flashed, bruises formed. This fight was too personal for guns or knives, yet both wanted the other dead.

Rick C-137 pushed through the crowd, his eyes locked on Morty.  _His_ Morty. The past year flashed through Rick's mind, his daughter sobbing, his granddaughter locking herself in her room and refusing to come out, Jerry's outrage and beratement, and his own depression so deep that he couldn't even argue.

When he was halfway to the balcony, Evil Morty pinned his counterpart and whispered something in Morty C-137's ear. A dead look flowed over his face, and Rick C-137 felt a raw, unbridled rage build inside of him. He knew that look. It was why he constantly needed a drink, why 'Wubba-lubba dub dub' was his catchphrase. He couldn't stand that look on his grandson's face.

_'Take it when you can take it no longer,'_ Morty U3945's voice said in his head, and Rick C-137 reached into his pocket and grabbed the capsule he hadn't thrown away. He tossed it into his mouth and bit down as he continued to push through the crowd. As soon as the pill touched his tongue, it burst into a liquid that rushed into his stomach, soaked into his bloodstream, and raced into his brain. Memories that weren't his flashed across his vision, and he blinked through them in a heartbeat.

With that single blink, he suffered through Evil Morty's tortures, staring at the dark expression on the cocky face as the monster used knives and heated tongs to mar his skin. He saw a descent into a half-madness, heard the voices screaming at him. Then, a voice that made fear pound in his chest, a sticky, sickly-sweet voice:  _"Hi, I'm Mr. Jellybean! Stay still! I'll make you feel so good!"_

And then, in another blink, it was gone. And he was Rick Sanchez C-137, not Morty C-137. He was running toward the boy who had tortured his grandson, and he was realizing that the memories had taken less than a second to run through his mind. But now he knew. He understood. His Morty  _wasn't_  cocky! There was a difference!

With rage that turned his vision red, Rick C-137 pulled a gun and began shooting at Evil Morty. He would  _kill_  that monster! How  _dare_  he torture his grandson? How  _dare_  he let that horrid beast do as he wished! He would  _kill_  him! Both of them!  _All_  of them!

Evil Morty was distracted by the gunshots that pinged off a long-range shield. The Great Morty took the opportunity to switch them around. Pinning the beast with his body, he got a good grip with his arm around the slim neck and began to squeeze. Everything narrowed down to the wheezing gasps that slowed, and his unimaginable pain.

Morty C-137 held on until the breaths became shallow and the attempts to get free slowed. Then he held on a little longer. He let go only when the body went limp. A strong grip took ahold of his shoulder, and he turned to see his Rick. The man looked at him, not with contempt and distrust, but with understanding. The Great Morty was pulled to his feet by his very own Rick.

The battleground rang with silence, everybody staring at the two figures who stood on the balcony. With the takedown of Evil Morty, the others didn't dare to fight anymore. Nobody moved for a moment, then weapons were thrown down. The talking started low and increased in volume until it rang through the hall.

The Great Morty looked away from his grandfather. "Do whatever you want with him," he said in a low voice. His expression was one of almost infinite exhaustion and distance from reality. Morty C-137 tapped on his wristwatch then disappeared into a portal that opened on the floor.

"With pleasure," Rick C-137 replied. His eyes glinted with the promise of death, pain, and humiliation. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.


	6. Worth Saving

Morty C-137 took another swig as there was a knock on his door.

"Come in," he said in a low tone.

Morty U3945 walked in. "Your Rick wants to-to see you."

Rick C-137 walked in, shoving the Morty aside. "G-get out of here. You did what you—eugh!—wanted."

The Morty hesitated, but when Rick gave him a look, he rushed out, shutting the door behind him. There was silence as Morty took another drink, and his Rick frowned.

"That's where t-that went."

"Y-yeah." He paused, swallowing another mouthful. "So, you took the pill."

Rick shrugged. "I'll kill that Jellybean. I'll kill him in every universe. I already killed the one E—eugh!—Evil Morty was keeping. I killed him, too. I made him  _suffer._ "

Morty pursed his lips then set the flask aside and stripped off his shirt. Rick let his eyes rove over the scars that he'd experienced receiving through the pill. The teeth marks stood out, and Rick swore and started muttering threats to both Evil Morty and the jellybean. He began to pace, and Morty drank some more. Rick paused.

"Stop that, M-Morty!"

"I can't. I don't want to th-think about it. That's why you d-drink, right? So y-y-you don't have to think about it?"

Rick narrowed his eyes, shrugging. More silence ensued.

"I'm sorry, Morty."

"I can't stop feeling him," Morty whispered, staring into his fireplace. "I remember everything. I want it to go away, Rick. Make it stop."

"I could remove the memory," Rick suggested.

"I don't think that's wise. W-who knows what it'll do t-to my mind. It's been there too l-long."

"Maybe."

Rick hesitated then approached to sit down on the couch. Morty sat beside him, swilling the liquid in the flask before taking another drink. He slowly leaned over to rest against his grandfather's side. An arm was wrapped around him, and he buried his face in the man's shirt and cried.

He cried for an hour, and they sat there, neither of them moving besides Morty's shaking and sobbing. It wasn't a hug, but it was enough for Morty, who listened to the threats and curses spilling from his grandfather's lips as he whimpered and sniffled. Rick stared into the fire, refusing to look at his grandson, but still, he was  _there_.

Morty C-137 had fought Evil Morty because of moments just like this, moments where Rick showed he cared, even a little. He knew deep down that Rick loved him somewhere inside, and that all Ricks felt the same way, though it was buried deeper in them. Ricks were worth saving, especially his.

As Morty sat up and they pretended that had never happened, he set aside the flask, not needing another drink for the moment. They sat and said nothing, but that was alright. Sitting together was enough. It was always enough at the end of the day, and that was one of the few constants in their lives. With that thought, Morty closed his tired, heavy eyes and fell asleep, feeling much better than he had in months.

Rick sat there and he hadn't said a word since the sobbing had stopped. As he gazed at his Morty, he entertained thoughts of what he was going to do with each foul Jellybean, a sadistic grin pulling up his lips. He would enjoy torturing the rapist. Again. And again. And again…But not now. Right now, he needed to guard his grandson. So he settled back and stared into the fire keeping one eye on Morty as he thought of revenge.


End file.
